Ëalís
by HeiHuoGongzhu
Summary: Nearly two thousand years after the events of Lord of the Rings, the guardians of Middle-earth gather to seek whom they think to be the last, living dwarf, and the remaining heir to Durin's line; but there is much more to this dwarf than most realize. {{Semi-Modern Middle Earth & Original Characters}}
1. Her Father's Bow

Twenty-year-old, newly-wed Aliaya danced happily with her husband Eregar at their wedding party. It was being held in a spacious, green field at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. It was a popular place for couples to hold their weddings due to the beautiful, perfectly shaded area beneath the mountainside. The mountain walls partially enclosed a crater, looking like a defined crescent moon when looking from above. Just yards above the Crescent sat a natural balcony that overlooked the valley. The thriving city of Dale could be seen miles away, and even further, the deep forest of Mirkwood.

Many citizens of Dale were gathered at the Crescent today to celebrate the wedding of Aliaya and Eregar. Eregar was an entrepreneur that frequently represented Dale at Industry Meetings—meetings where innovators gathered from all corners of Middle Earth to present their ideas to companies for manufacturing. Aliaya was raised on a farm, assisting her widowed mother since her father's death.

Music roared through the valley as couples danced and cheered. Women wore fine, elegant, Elven-made dresses that shimmered with gold and silver sequins. It was obvious that the women would contest to see who could wear the flashiest dress. Men wore suits and silk ties with just as much elegance as the women's designer dresses. Weddings were occasions where even the lowest of class would spend countless coin on designer fashions.

Aliaya's white dress shimmered in the sun with hundreds of silver sequins that hung from her waist to the ground. Silk graciously wrapped her shoulders and was pinned together with a glittering brooch on her chest. Long, silk white gloves clung to her arms. Her mid-length black hair had been curled into fine ringlets and placed in a chic up-do that defined her fair, slender face and her distinct cheekbones. Her cat-like, blue eyes were perfected with lengthened, black lashes and glittering, charcoal eye makeup. Her full, round lips shined with a soft pink gloss. She was so well made up that she could have been mistaken for a High Elven beauty of Rivendell.

Eregar wore a black suit and a white shirt that lay perfectly on his thin body. His golden skin and dark brown hair were perfected for his wedding day. His brown eyes smiled upon Aliaya's as they danced to the final song of the evening. The moment seemed to last a lifetime, but he wished a lifetime were longer. Soon, the guests began to clear out, riding their carriages back into town. Aliaya's mother and Eregar's parents and brother assisted in clearing out the party scene.

Aliaya headed up the mountain path to the balcony that sat above the Crescent. She made several trips up and down the path, carrying small tables and chairs down to a carriage. As the sun began to set on the horizon, Aliaya was making her final trip to the balcony as she heard a soft cry coming from further up the mountain path.

"Eregar!" she called down below, motioning for him to follow. "Eregar, come quickly!" Panic rose in her voice. No one had brought children to the wedding. She had known and met every face that came and went throughout the night, and no one had children.

Eregar raced to the balcony. Aliaya was already on her way up the path. "My love, what is it? Hold on a moment, please." Eregar called to her but she would not halt, even for a moment. Aliaya was out of Eregar's sight now as she continued around the bend.

In a moment, Eregar saw Aliaya kneeled beside an alcove, cradling something in her arms. A single tear fell from her perfect eyes. He knelt beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. She was holding a baby. The child could have been no less than a few weeks old. His wife made soft hushing sounds as she held the infant closer.

The only thing Aliaya could choke out was "Who could do this?" Fear, concern, and anger were mixed in her voice. Memories of her childhood flooded back as she remembered sitting next to her mother who had given birth to a son. Tears welled in her eyes as she pictured the anguish in her mother's expression as the baby died in her arms. Later the same night, Aliaya's father was found dead between the city and the farm with a bottle of ale at his side—he had drunk himself to death.

Eregar held his wife as she held the baby. Silence surrounded them as they cradled the baby to sleep.

••••••••••••••••••••

_Eight Years Later_

"Look at Ëalís," mocked a scrawny, six-year-old boy as he pointed his finger at Ëalís. She stood firm with her arms crossed and her expression stern. "Look at short, little Ëalís. She must be a Hobbit. A puny, little Hobbit." Children roared in laughter all around her. Ëalís always stood shorter than all other children her age. In fact, children spent most of their time pointing fingers and mocking her, just as this boy had been doing.

"Shut up, kid," snapped Ëalís as she pushed a long, dark-brown ringlet of hair behind her ear. She never called any of her schoolmates by their real names. She felt they did not deserve that respect, especially for treating her as such for the past couple of years. She never felt belittled by their comments. She was short, but never thought about why. She was always smarter than the children she grew up around. It was starting to become obvious that she physically aged slower than the rest of the children. Despite her age, she was academically ahead of her classmates, mostly because her teachers and tutors insisted on holding her back a grade until she "matured." This is her second year as a first-grader at Dale Elementary.

The last bell had rung at Dale Elementary, releasing the school children for the day. Parents waited outside for their eager children to tell them about the ancient fables they heard in class. Many children rode a large, public transportation carriage home, while others simply walked. Ëalís was a walker. She slung her bag over her shoulder as she thought of all the insults she could have used against her obnoxious, immature foes. She had to smile at some of her own thoughts.

A taller, thin child ran up beside Ëalís, interrupting her daydream.

"Hey," said the little girl to Ëalís who kept her gaze ahead, trying to ignore the girl's presence. "I'm sorry about those kids back there—everything they said to you. It's okay to be different." The little girl giggled at Ëalís's stubbornness. "My name is Lily."

Ëalís finally looked over at the girl walking beside her. She was tall, even for her age, which could easily be eight or nine. "Lily," Ëalís took a moment to ponder the name. She smirked. "That's an odd name." Lily's skin was fair. Her eyes were wide with a very rich, shade of cobalt blue, much like Ëalís's, but her long eyelashes curled upward, defining the shape of her eyes. Her hair was long, waist-length, and was a beautiful shade of light blonde.

"You know," started Lily. "It _is_ okay to be different."

Ëalís rolled her eyes. "I'm not different. What do _you_ know about being different, anyway?" The sarcasm rose in her voice. "There's nothing different about you."

Lily's smile had yet to fade. "It's not always what's on the outside, what people can see." Ëalís came to an abrupt stop. Lily stops a few feet ahead.

"Why are you following me?" Ëalís asked as she crossed her arms. That was her trademark "don't mess with me" pose.

"You looked like you needed a friend, but I can leave if you want me to. Give me ten seconds to run ahead, and I'll be out of your way." Lily's smile slowly faded, but there was no malice or sarcasm in her expression. Ëalís sighed as she lowered her gaze and pondered Lily's comment. She realized that Lily really meant no harm to her, she was just friendly.

"No," Ëalís said. She fumbled through her thoughts as she realized how hateful she had been toward Lily, who had not said anything spiteful at all. "Don't leave." Lily's mouth curled into a sweet smile as she motioned Ëalís to follow her.

"Come on," Lily said. "If you are headed his way, you can stop my house if you want. My mom always has snacks prepared and we can read some of that book we got for history class." Ëalís had not even noticed until now. Lily _was_ in her first grade class. She was also older than the other children, like herself, even though Lily _looked_ older.

The two girls turned down a wide road into a very nice neighborhood, only a few minutes from downtown. The brick houses were large and majestic and the lawns were perfectly cut and greened. Ëalís had not noticed what Lily was wearing until now. Her clothes were Elven made. Her long-sleeved, fitted white shirt was tucked into black leggings. She wore short, black velvet flat boots with a silver buckle. Around her waist she wore a black, silver accented belt with a silver buckle engraved with something she could not read (probably Elvish). Ëalís felt a little discomfort at the thought of her own clothes. She wore a navy blue top with a long, gray jacket. Her pants were loose and hung over her dirty, black boots. She felt like a homeless child compared to Lily. Her dark, nearly black hair was thick and curly, which hung to her mid-back in fuzzy ringlets most of the time. Her skin was also pale, but did not have the same graceful beauty as Lily's.

Ëalís and Lily approached the front door of one of the few magnificent houses that stood on the quiet suburban street. Before Lily even reached for the doorknob, the door swung open revealing a young, attractive women standing at the door. The woman had to be Lily's mother. She had the same blue eyes and the same perfect, petite nose as Lily. The only difference was her hair. Rather than thin, shiny, light-blonde hair, her mother had thicker, light brown hair, which was pulled back into an up-do. Ëalís and Lily's mother's eyes met. The warm, welcoming smile vanished for a moment as she studied Ëalís. Her thoughts were interrupted by her daughter's eagerness.

"Mother, this is Ëalís! She is in my class. Do you mind if she stays for a while?" Lily's eyes gleamed with excitement. Ëalís observed the look on her new friend's face and wondered how ever her mother would say "no." Her expression was somehow enchanting beyond description. The way her eyes sparkled and her white teeth shone between her smiling lips would make it impossible for anyone to want to disappoint her.

"Alright," her mother gave in. "But only if it's okay with her parents." Her mother smiled, and Ëalís noticed she did not have the same enchanting expression as her daughter. "Do you have a phone at your house?" The mother must have noticed Ëalís's clothes and automatically jumped to the conclusion that her family is lower class. Ëalís nods, though she does not blame her for assuming so.

Lily's mother led Ëalís to the phone. Ëalís picked up the handset and spun the dial. On the other line, her mother Aliaya answered.

"Hi, Mom. May I stay at a friend's house for a while?... Her name is Lily. She's in my class…"

Aliaya could be heard through the handset. "Oh, you made a friend?" Aliaya could not contain her joy when she found out her daughter had made a new friend. She knew that Ëalís was not particularly social at school. "You may stay, Elle," she finally said. "But please be home for dinner."

"Okay, Mom! Bye!" Ëalís felt so excited to be able to stay. She had never gone to anyone else's house before. The two girls ran upstairs and into a study room that contained a small red, velvet rocking chair, a well-fashioned, decorative black oak table with a matching chair, a massive, Victorian chandelier that hung from the ceiling, and many, many bookshelves that stood from the floor to the ceiling filled with thousands of books.

"We need to keep this room in top shape. My dad is coming home tomorrow, so Mom and I want to show him that we can take care of things around the house while he is gone." Lily seemed ecstatic about her dad's return home, which sparked curiosity in Ëalís.

"Your dad is coming home? Where did he go?" Ëalís pushed a ringlet behind her ear.

"Far away," replied Lily. Her tone became serious. "He has a new job, and he must travel far away to work. But," the excitement returned in her voice. "He will come home on the weekends to spend time with me and my mom while I'm not in school."

"That's nice," said Ëalís, who felt lucky to have her dad home everyday for dinner. "My dad works here in town. He only has to leave sometimes. He invents stuff and he takes it to show other people what he thought of."

"That's pretty cool," smiles Lily. Her mother walks in the room with miniature sandwiches on a nice, glass plate. Both girls take one, thanking her as she leaves. Ëalís examines the sandwich. The bread is hard and crumbly, which she barely recognized as some sort of Elven bread. Between the bread was a small bundle of green and red vegetables. She had never seen anything like it. She took a bite, trying her hardest to not make a mess on the floor that has to stay clean for Lily's father's return home. To her surprise, Ëalís liked it. The girls laughed as they tried to crunch the bread without making a mess.

••••••••••••••••••••

_Three Hours Later_

Ëalís quickly thanked Lily and her mother for their hospitality and told Lily that she would see her tomorrow at school. She lost track of time and realized that she will be late for dinner.

Ëalís sprinted through the nice neighborhood until she found her way back to the main road, which she would follow to her family's apartment. She had burst through the apartment door as she saw her father sitting at the kitchen table with his face in his hands and her mother stood silently beside him. "I am so sorry I'm late," she cries as she walks toward them. They must have been so worried about her. "I will do be—"

"Elle, honey," Aliaya quickly stepped in. "Your father lost his job." Ëalís's expression sunk into depression, though she could barely comprehend what was going on.

"W-What?" Ëalís choked up. Thoughts scurried through her mind as she was trying to make sense of what was going to happen.

Aliaya answered one of Ëalís's many unspoken questions. "We are going to have to move. Please try to understand, Elle."

••••••••••••••••••••

_The Same Night at Twilight_

Ëalís could not sleep that night. She could hear her parents' soft voices in the next room discussing where they will have to go.

"We only have one option," Aliaya whispered. "We are going to have to move back to my mother's farm. She will take us, Eregar. I know she could use the extra help, too."

"And what about, Ëalís? What about her education?" Eregar's tone sounded just as concerned. Ëalís tensed as she lay in bed, processing what she was hearing.

"I will home-school her," Aliaya replied. "We do not have a choice. We cannot let her walk that far to school, and we cannot afford a carriage."

Ëalís felt tears streaming from her eyes. Much of the remaining conversation was muffled, but she heard everything she needed to know. She would never get to see her only friend. She would, once again, be alone.

••••••••••••••••••••

_The Following Morning_

Today would be Ëalís's last day of school. She kissed her parents goodbye as she raced out the door, eager to see her friend, but disappointed that this could be the last time.

Lily caught up with her about halfway to school, smiling as usual. "Good morning, Ëalís!"

Ëalís sighed. This was not a good morning, in the least. "Lily…" She paused, searching for an easier way to say it, primarily to prevent herself from crying. She thought of nothing. "Today is my last day. I'm moving to a farm a few miles from town. It's too far to walk."

This was the only time Ëalís could not find an ounce of cheeriness in Lily's expression. "You're really leaving? But… We just became best friends." Ëalís thought Lily might really cry. "You…Can't…Go."

"I have to. My dad lost his job and we can't afford to stay in the apartment any more." Ëalís tried to explain, but realized that her friend probably would not understand.

"You can't go," was all Lily had to say.

••••••••••••••••••••

_After School_

"Come by my house, just for a few minutes," Lily said. She finally smiled, again, which she had not done all day.

The girls ran to Lily's house, just as they had done the day before. Instead of inviting Ëalís inside, Lily told her to wait outside by the door. She was only alone for a few minutes before Lily returned outside with something wrapped in a deep purple cloth.

"I want you to have this," Lily said as she handed Ëalís the large bundle, which was nearly larger than herself. Ëalís thanked her as she unraveled the cloth to find a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Ëalís could not believe her eyes as she stared at the bow, imagining everything it had gone through. It was in beautiful condition, not to mention it was Elven made. It was a real bow and arrow. Ëalís had never seen anything like this, especially something so _antique_.

"That bow is thousands of years old," Lily exclaimed. "My father gave it to me, but now I'm giving it to you. I never want you to forget me."

Ëalís pondered this for a moment. "Let's consider it a loan. If and when I see you again, I'll return it to you. That way, I have motivation to come back."

Lily smiled, but it was not her usual smile. No one had really ever seen Lily smile until they have seen this. This was not her usual, enchanting façade. She was genuinely happy.

Ëalís turned away to head back to her apartment for the final time. Just as she reached the edge of Lily's yard, Ëalís heard Lily call out, "Don't forget! It _is_ okay to be different."


	2. Nightmares of Old

**A/N: ****When I describe characters' appearances, I am basing them off how they are portrayed in the movie, even though I categorized this story under the book. Getting my point across is much easier this way.**

**Thank you for reading! **

_Fourteen Years Later_

_The following text is written in Ëalís's journal in ancient Dwarven runes. The date that is marked is roughly translated as a winter-spring month (March) in the one hundred and twenty-seventh year of the Elven-man Era._

"My name is Ëalís. In years compared to man, I am about sixteen. I do not age too much differently than man, simply a bit slower. I am twenty-two years old, respectively. I am still considered a minor (which inconveniently legally restricts me from far too many things).

"I am adopted. For years, I did not know. But as I grew older, I realized that they were not _my_ parents. They have always taken care of me. They genuinely love me, and I love them. My adoptive mother is Aliaya and my adoptive father is Eregar—both are of mortal man. I never knew my birth parents. I do not know when or where I was born. In fact, I do not even remember any life away from Aliaya and Eregar here in the outskirts of Dale. They are farmers, and our house lies miles from the city, but you can still see it.

"I am rather skilled with a bow and arrow. Unfortunately, the art is lost in this society. The art of archery has been transformed into something more modern. A crossbow is what they call it. It is one of the few inventions that Elf and man came together to create. It is a similar concept of a bow and arrow but is automatic and requires less labor and skill. A 'rich man's bow' is what they insist on calling it in these parts, though it is used by much of the middle-class, as well. My family could never afford such a thing comfortably.

"I received my first bow at the age of eight. It was given to me by the only friend I ever had, even if we were only friends for two days. I felt like I had known her for a lifetime. Her name is Lily, and I remember her well. There has not been a day to pass where I haven't thought of her. Shortly after I moved to the farm, she moved as well. She did not simply move to a different house within the city, she moved across the country. I found this out when I briefly returned to the Dale school at a later age.

"My parents are farmers and our wages strictly come from the money we make by selling our produce in the local market. Sometimes, if I am lucky enough to land an arrow on some extra meat, we are able sell it for a nice profit. That does not happen often enough, unfortunately. In the vast fields that lie before Dale and the Lonely Mountain, trees are scarce, which makes any hunter detectable for miles.

"A majority of my education has been through readings I have done on my own. When I moved out here years ago, I left the school as well. When I was seventeen (old enough to walk the distance alone), I returned to school briefly, but left, never to return. Part of me was hoping to see Lily there, even though I knew she wouldn't be.

"It has taken years, but I have mastered the Dwarven runes. It is an art that I have taught myself, since no one but the Elves in centuries have used it. It's a part of me. Everything I write is in runes. I'm not one to have secrets, but writing in runes gives me a sense of peace and comfort.

"I have an interest in Middle Earth's history. During the years I've spent alone, teaching myself, I have read factual texts and children's tales that make up Middle Earth's colorful history. My favorite story is that of a Hobbit, living millenniums before my birth, and his journey to the Lonely Mountain to help a group of Dwarves reclaim their home. He calls it _There and Back Again_. I have read that book countless times, imagining myself in the story. I have always felt as if I _were_ a part of the story. It has always been more than just a book to me.

"Unfortunately, not all of my readings have been pleasant. The Dwarves as they were known are now considered extinct. No sign of Dwarven settlement has been spotted in over a thousand years. I know, of course, they lived in their cities deep within the lands of Middle Earth. If there are any dwarves left, they do not wish to be found. Most Hobbits live away from the rest of civilization. In years passed, they settled in the same cities and towns as men, but over the years, the Hobbits were recruited for labor. They were not treated as slaves, but they felt as their identity had been laid on the line. Most withdrew back to their original settlement—Hobbiton. Needless to say, most towns and cities consist of men and elves.

"I do not know why I am so interested in Middle Earth's history. Most others my age are not—especially women. Some guess that it is in my blood, so it is quite natural for me to want to know. I am not advised to further my research, but I am not blamed for wanting to continue. They know me; and, perhaps, they know much more about me than I know about myself. At least that is how it started. For me, it is not simply about learning the history of Middle Earth, but it is more about uncovering how this new era came to be; and even more so, why _I_ am here. I feel I am a part of something—something big."

••••••••••••••••••••

Ëalís set down the charcoal pencil on her open journal. She sighed as she reread the text she had written, pondering the words "I feel I am a part of something—something big." She gazed out the window that hung before her desk, smiling as she spotted her father setting up targets for her to practice her archery.

The farm had been quiet lately. Aliaya's mother died, leaving her market store entirely in her daughter's hands. Eregar never found another job; besides, he thought work on the farm was for more than that of a full time career.

She closed her journal, leaving the pencil inside to mark her place. She slid off the old, oversized shirt she slept in and replaced it with a fitted grey, long-sleeved cotton shirt and a pair of black leggings. She anxiously searched her drawers for a hairbrush, which was barely useable for her thick, curly hair. She looked in the mirror at the face that had not changed in the past fourteen years. Her skin was pale and her cheeks were pink. Her round, cobalt eyes glittered as the sun shone through her window and onto her fair complexion. She stood taller than she had fourteen years ago, but no higher than five feet. Her dark brown, messy hair still hung in ringlets to the center of her back. She gazed at the girl in the mirror, still contemplating the words "something big."

She slid on a muddy pair of boots put on the worn archery glove that sat on a shelf. Ëalís grabbed her bow from behind the bookshelf. She slung the quiver over her shoulders as she opened the window of her small bedroom, climbing through into her forested yard.

"I hope these targets work for you, Elle," said Eregar as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He stepped back as Ëalís readied an arrow and shot the bulls-eye without trouble. Eregar smiled, pleased with his daughters skill of a now ancient art.

"They'll do," Ëalís smiled with content as she thanked her father for his hard work and dedication. He had worked on the targets for hours, only wanting the highest quality equipment for his adopted daughter. There were eleven targets total. One stood at ground level, directly in front of her and one stood on both sides of the centered target, leveled a feet from the ground. Three were suspended from branches in the tree, one over each ground target. Another was suspended from a cord that ran between two trees, allowing the target to move with the wind. Two more targets stood behind her, one sitting on the roof of her house and another to the left of the house, hanging in the middle of a tree. The circle was completed by two final targets that stood in the distance to her left and to her right.

"I also thought of something else," stated Eregar. He walked towards his daughter with a piece of cloth in his hand. "I want you to shoot these targets blindfolded," he said as he tied the fabric around her eyes. "But don't worry, I've no doubt you'll hit them."

Eregar stepped back out of the circle of targets. He held stones in his hand, which he rattled for a moment. "Wait for a sound," he told Ëalís as she was drawing her bow. "Use your ears. You won't always be able to see your targets."

Ëalís inhales deeply as she waits for a sound. Eregar throws a stone at the left suspended target in front of Ëalís. Just as the rock hit the target, Ëalís fired. She reaches for her blindfold as her father interrupted, "Not yet." Ëalís pursed her lips as she desired to see her target. She drew another arrow and waited. Behind her, a stone hits the target on the roof. The arrow is fired.

"Are you ready for something a little more difficult?" Eregar asked her as she nodded, saying nothing. Another arrow was drawn. She prepared herself to fire arrows rapidly, as her father would throw stones at multiple targets. So he did. An arrow was fired to the far left, quickly following with an arrow to the tree beside her house and an arrow to the gliding target.

"Now," said Eregar. "Take off the blindfold." And in the moment, Ëalís pulled the cloth from her eyes, examining the targets around her. A part of her was please. She hit every target. Another part of her was disappointed that she did not hit the center on all of them. "You did well, my daughter. If I didn't know any better, I could have mistaken you for an Elf."

"I'm not an Elf, right?" teased Ëalís as she slung her bow over her shoulder. She tugged at her glove as she smiled at the pleasure of being compared to an Elven archer. Her arm ached from the weight of the heavy draw of her bow. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and pulled her thick, curly hair back as she tied it up.

Eregar chuckled in amusement. "Not an Elf."

••••••••••••••••••••

_The sky was red that night. The smell of fire brimmed in the thick smoke that surrounded Ëalís as she opened her mouth to call for help. As hard as she tried, she could not speak. She knew what she was saying but no words could be heard. To her resentment, she ran. She had no recollection of where she was supposed to go, if anywhere. The more she thought of it, the more she realized that she did not recognize her surroundings—at least what she could see of them, which was mostly obstructed by the thick haze. She heard a terrible roar that echoed through her surroundings. She looked toward the blood-red sky, only seeing black clouds of smoke. She heard the fierce roar again, only this time, the dreadful cry came from the sky directly overhead. She gazed in terror as she spotted the fierce beast—or, at least, its tail. It was a dragon, something Middle Earth has not seen in two thousand years. _

_She reached for her bow, thinking of the sole solution to save herself. To her dismay, she was not carrying her bow, nor had she any arrows or a quiver. She searched her clothes for anything she could use as a weapon. Her hand fumbled over something at her side. A sword. She pulled it from the sheath, and in that moment, her surroundings had changed. Where was the dragon? The smoke? The fire? She was now standing at the foot of the Lonely Mountain and before the gates of the long abandoned dwarven city of Erebor—only this Erebor had not been abandoned. Not quite. With the sword in her hand, she stood before a thousand orcs and very few dwarves. An aged, white-bearded dwarf turned to face her. The pain in his eyes thickened as he shouted something—something. Ëalís could not hear what the dwarf was calling out to her. She saw his lips move, but she heard nothing. The dwarf waved his hand, motioning her to move away, but Ëalís stood still with fear. The dwarf mouthed something again as Ëalís studied hard his lips. He spoke shortly and quickly, so he could not have said much—a name perhaps. But the dwarf was not saying her name. The dwarf motioned for her to move, again. This time, Ëalís swung around, and before her stood a giant, ferocious-looking dog. No. But it was not a dog. It was a warg. She considered the fact that she knew exactly what the creature was without ever seeing one. She had read about them, but had never seen one—until now. The creature that stood before her snarled, showing dozens of sharp, lethal teeth. There was an orc riding the beast. He raised his weapon, eager to strike. Ëalís rose the sword she held in her hands, which were now felt strangely weak. Rather than preparing herself to strike (or defend—depending on which would come first), she noticed the sword she held was elven made. It was ornate for a weapon, and strangely enough, it was glowing blue._

_Ëalís had been so lost in her thoughts, she had forgotten that she stood before an orc and his warg. The warg snarled for a last time as it prepared to lunge. Ëalís panicked. She stepped back and raised the glowing sword, preparing to strike. Suddenly, two dwarves jumped from the mountain terrain above her. They were obviously younger than the others on the battlefield. A dark-haired dwarf shot an arrow at the orc's forehead, and a blonde-haired dwarf sliced at the warg's neck. Both enemies fell. The young dwarves looked to Ëalís in utter disbelief._

_"What were you thinking?" shouted the dark-haired archer dwarf. Once again, Ëalís could not hear the words that were being spoken, but she read his lips well. What _was_ she thinking? She turned back around, facing the huge army of orcs and wargs before her. The two younger dwarves stood at her side, bow drawn and swords readied. She felt as if she was frozen. She felt helpless as the large army closed in around her and her two dwarven acquaintances. Once again, she tried to run, soon realizing it was hopeless. She looked behind her towards the young dwarves, but they had disappeared—nowhere to be seen. They did not run, either. It would have been impossible. They were surrounded on all sides._

_"Ëlle." This was the first time she heard anyone speak. "Ëlle," she heard again. The voice was calm. It was her father's voice. "Ëlle."_

"Ëalís. Wake up!" Ëalís was startled awake by the harsh concern in her father's tone. He never called her Ëalís. She was always Elle to him, ever since she was a young girl. She propped herself up on one arm, pushing a tangled curl behind her ear as she came to her senses.

"What's a warg?" Eregar jokingly asked his daughter as he knelt beside her bed.

"I don't know," she lied. Had she been talking in her sleep? Eregar rose to his feet.

"Come on. Get up and do something useful and get your mind out of those horror stories." Eregar left her in her silence. She laid back down, staring at the ceiling, wondering what would curse her to dream of something that seemed so…_real_.

••••••••••••••••••••

That afternoon would be a stress-free afternoon for Ëalís, no matter what the cost. She dressed herself in an old pair of leggings and a worn shirt. She slid on the same pair of muddy boots she had worn for years; and, finally, she slipped on her favorite archery glove and grabbed her elven bow. She had not even bothered to brush the tousled mats from her thick, curly hair. She pushed the window open and climbed through without difficulty.

She stood among the targets in the wooded yard, slowly inhaling and exhaling as she prepared herself to fire. It helped her to concentrate. She drew an arrow, swiftly firing at the center target just before her, hitting the center mark with no trouble. Next, she drew two arrows at once, hoping to strike the left and right targets. For the first time in years, she failed to hit the targets—both directions. She exhaled and relaxed her shoulders, not even noticing that she was tense. Disappointment. She slung her bow around her shoulders as she reached for the arrows on the ground.

She jerked her head up at the sight of _something_ in the distance. A large, white elk—big enough for her family to eat from for weeks, and perhaps some to spare—stood deeper within the woods. In the attempt to remain silent, she fumbled over her bow, which clanked against her quiver as she tried to fire at it. Just as she released the arrow from her grip, the elk bolted to her right, but rather than running away, it ran toward her, startling her as she fell backwards—breaking the silence after all. She shuffled to her feet, ignoring the blood that had stained her pallid hand.

The elk came to a graceful trot as it circled Ëalís, who had once again, drawn her bow. The elk was close to her—too close. The elk circled until she lowered her weapon. She stood confused and alarmed, furrowing her brow as she questioned her own sanity. The elk stood before her. She had not before noticed that the beast was significantly larger than any other elk she had encountered. The beast lowered its head, bobbing its nose at Ëalís's wounded hand. She thought nothing of her own actions as she raised her hand to touch the elk's nose. Ëalís felt as if everything around her had been enchanted. The air seemed lighter as the bleeding on her hand stopped and the pain in her back vanished. She closed her eyes, embracing the painlessness and the golden air. The elk stepped back noiselessly and bowed its head. Ëalís opened her cobalt eyes, rolling her shoulders and examining her injured hand. Nothing felt like reality. Had she hit her head? Was she dreaming?

Very suddenly, a discomfort pitted in her stomach. She grabbed her head as trees and targets spun around her, creating a labyrinth of misperception, disorder, and _sickness_.

••••••••••••••••••••

_Ëalís stood at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. Before her, a golden aired horizon was stained with blood. Before her laid thousands of defeated bodies, bloodied and battered, speared and arrowed. Many were orcs and wargs, some were dwarves and elves; but a surviving few gathered at a camp in the distance._

_As she approached the gathered survivors, she noticed they were gathered around three dwarves lying before them—two of them were dead, the other was barely alive._

_"Bury them…" the dwarf choked out. "Together." His voice had been a mere whisper._

_Ëalís stepped closer, kneeling before the three dwarves. She had not even noticed that she could not be seen by the gathered dwarves. She examined them carefully, barely recognizing that two of the three had been the young archer and his brother._

_"My king," an older, grey bearded dwarf knelt beside her. Ëalís looked toward him. A single tear streamed from his eye. Ëalís could not help herself. Her throat tightened as she fought the tears that welled in her eyes. She could not describe the feeling other than that she felt as if she had _known_ them._

_Two strong dwarves, whom Ëalís did not recognize, picked up the two young dwarves and carried them off._

_"Ëalís," said an echoing voice behind the crowd of mourning dwarves. She stood to her feet, wiping the tears from her eyes as she turned to face the elk she had encountered on the previous day. The elk spoke to her. She made her way past the dwarves. The elk stood strong before her. "Ëalís. You have seen these things which I have showed you. Every one of these dwarves is a part of you, some more than you know…"_

_Behind her, Ëalís heard a new voice. A hobbit had made his way to the dwarf. "Farewell," he stated nobly. "_King under the Mountain_."_

_As the name was spoken, she felt a sharp pain in her chest. She worked to place her thoughts in order. She had seen this moment before, but in a book, though she had always felt as if it were more personal. "Thorin Oakenshield. Son of Thrain, son of Thror." She inhaled deeply, and exhaled as she realized who the dwarves behind her were. "King under the Mountain. And others-"_

_"Following twilight, follow me to the Lonely Mountain. There is someone I want you to meet," was all the elk had said in response._

••••••••••••••••••••

Ëalís opened her eyes to the shimmering, rising sun which shone through her open window. She placed her forefingers in the inner corner of her eyes, pressing deeply as she rose to her feet. Peering out the window, she saw the great elk sitting beside her house. Though the sun had risen, it was still very early. Both Aliaya and Eregar were still asleep. She gazed at her reflection through the mirror. She still wore her clothes from yesterday, which were stained with blood on her sleeves and her pants.

She splashed cold water on her face, scrubbing away the dirt and dried blood. She quickly ran a brush through her hair. She found a silver hair pin and pulled back the front strands and pinned them in place on the back of her head. She pulled a plain, navy blue, long-sleeved shirt over her head and slipped on a pair of black leggings and her old boots. She wrapped a cloth bandage around her lacerated hand and slid on her glove.

She quickly headed back into her room, refraining from noise if it was at all possible. She grabbed what she deemed necessary and stuffed them in a small pouch she wore across her shoulders. She hesitated at her desk when she reached for her journal, but pulled her hand back as she thought of a better use for it. Sure, she would miss it, but instead, she grabbed the pencil and opened to a blank page and wrote:

"I am about to go on an adventure. I am unable to say if it will be nearly as exciting as those adventures traveled by Hobbits, Elves, Dwarves, and Man in the children's tales, but I have just as much purpose as they.

"I do not know exactly where I am going; therefore, I cannot say. Something inside me calls me to the Lonely Mountain. Something or _someone_ wants me to find something there, although I cannot imagine what. The treasure of the mountain was cleared years ago by the Elves after the Dwarves were considered extinct. I have never been one for supernatural, but I feel that someone is _personally_ requesting my attendance.

"I hope I return. I do not doubt I will. The fierce dragons and powerful, usurping wizards have long passed in these lands. Those heroes I have met in the children's tales have been role models of mine ever since I was a little girl. If it were not for them, I may be remaining within the quaint comfort and safety of my home.

"I am leaving this journal for my return home. In my future, I want to remember the girl I was. When I return, I want to know how_ I_ have changed.

"One last note. I am not 'running away,' but my parents do not know I am leaving. They will soon find out. I am taking our horse."

Her throat tightened as she thought of her parents and how they would feel when they find out she had left. She reached for her bow and quiver which rested against the wall behind her bookshelf. She slung them over her shoulder as she always had, feeling peace and comfort when she had them with her.

She saddled her family's brown horse. She mounted it, not ever before realizing that she could barely ride it. The horse seemed so much bigger to her than it looked with any other rider. She was so small. The elk rose and stood before her. After moments, the elk turned away and headed deep into the woods and out into the valley, heading to the Lonely Mountain. Ëalís kicked the sides of the horse, following the beast into the distance.


	3. The Meeting

**A/N: For your future reference and the for the sake of this story, let us pretend that some characters never left Middle Earth.**

The foot of the mountain was not far from Ëalís's home. She followed the white elk to the mountain and stopped before a narrow, natural pathway that would lead her near the peak. She kicked the sides of her horse, encouraging it to move forward, but it resisted. She dismounted it, tugging at the reigns to lead it forward, but the beast stood still. She grew impatient. She closed her eyes and exhaled as she considered her options. She glanced behind her and noticed that the elk had continued up the mountain.

"Wait!" she yelled. She rolled her eyes as she realized that the animal was not going to respond to her plea. She continued to pull on the reigns, hoping to horse would budge. As she struggled, she looked back toward the elk which could no longer be seen.

"I don't have time for you," she said harshly as she dropped the reigns. "Go home." Ëalís furrowed her brow as she continued up the pass, trying to free herself of her frustration and impatience. She looked all around her, seeing no sign of the elk that was to lead her.

Two hours had passed and Ëalís found no sign of the elk. She glanced toward the sky and decided that it must have been sometime in the late morning or early afternoon and she realized that she had not eaten. She grabbed her stomach as it grumbled. She cursed herself for not thinking to bring food. She decided that was not very good at going on adventures. If she had planned to go anywhere far, she would definitely not succeed.

The pathway up the mountain was becoming less evident and narrower. She considered the option of climbing a ways, but the thought did not excite her. She looked toward the city of Dale where buildings looked nothing more than that of a shadow in the distance that had been fogged by rain. Evening had fallen over the clouded skies and Ëalís grew weary. She still had yet to eat and the hike weakened the joints in her aching ankles and even to this point, the elk was nowhere to be seen. She found a concaved wall in the mountainside and sat within it to rest and considere all the possibilities, thinking that the elk had simply been a figment of her dreams or it had taken a different path.

Exhaustion fell upon Ëalís quickly and she, once again slipped into an enigma of reverie.

••••••••••••••••••••

_Ëalís found herself sitting at a fire before a tent. Three others sat with her. One of her acquaintances was the Hobbit she encountered at Thorin's death. Across from the Hobbit sat an elf. Subconsciously, she furrowed her brow at the sight of him. The third was a man with a bow on his back. Unlike the other dreams she had been having, this one did not seem personally familiar to her, yet she knew what was going to happen. In the book _There and Back Again_, the Hobbit offers the Arkenstone to the elven king and the man so they may negotiate with Thorin. The Hobbit had never been her favorite character in the story, and she definitely did not like the elven king._

_As she suspected, the Hobbit withdrew the Arkenstone from his coat and unwrapped the cloth around it. The man and the king's eyes widened as they examined the treasure before them. Ëalís pursed her lips and looked away as she could not bear the sight of this._

_Her surroundings became muffled and dark as the scenario changed. She once again stood before Thorin Oakenshield, the Hobbit, and an old man dressed in robes that was unmistakably Gandalf the Grey. She had dreamed of something similar before, but this time, Thorin was not alive. The Hobbit was turning away from Thorin, but Ëalís stayed where she was, and this sight was paining her even more than before. As she bowed her head to turn away, she noticed something in Thorin's hand. It was the Arkenstone. She glanced up at Gandalf who was looking at her directly. Did he _see _her?_

Ëalís opened her eyes. A shrilling gasp escaped from her throat as a girl a couple of years younger than herself stood before her with an arrow drawn in an elegant silver bow that was aimed directly at her throat.

••••••••••••••••••••

_The following text is written in a journal in tengwar._

_"The White Council has located the dwarf on her farm outside of Dale. My grandfather sent for her two days ago. He appeared to her in her dream. I saw her speaking to him. She's beginning to question these dreams. She's learning. She's _remembering.

_"I am with the White Council. We have set up camp on the Lonely Mountain near where an entrance to Erebor is supposedly located. The Council has done their research, but there is still no way of knowing for certain if the door is still in existence. Dwarven doors are invisible when closed, and they are not entirely sure if Ëalís will be able to open it, either. Though considering her circumstance, I am sure she can._

_"When Ëalís arrives, the Council will explain everything to her. Though I am not a part of the Council, I have asked my father to advise Lord Elrond to heavily consider the way he approaches the subject. Ëalís was headstrong and stubborn, even as a young girl. Lord Elrond said that his dealings with her kind has made him aware and he knows how to handle her. He's right, I'm sure, but something tells me that Ëalís will not know how to react. She is only partly herself and that part is currently the dominant character._

••••••••••••••••••••

Ëalís swallowed hard and closed her eyes, hoping the girl would not shoot. She noticed the girl had straight, smooth blond hair that hung to her waist. The front strands had been pulled back in silver pins, revealing ears that were distinctly _elven_.

"Phöelele," a male voice called out. He soon stood behind her, wearing traditional elven clothing. In fact, both wore traditional elven clothing. The fabrics were white, silver, and light shades of blue, dark shades of blue, and gray. The male elf looked very much like the girl with very few differences. Both had the same blonde hair and very similar facial features. The girl was his daughter.

The man stepped towards Ëalís and knelt beside her. Ëalís reached for her bow, but as she did, the elf turned his head replying "Not a good idea," as he glanced back at his daughter who still held the arrow.

Three other elves gathered behind the archer elf. One was a dark-haired man and the second was a blonde haired elven woman. Ëalís recognized the third, but her expression remained unchanged. The third was the elven king that conversed with the Hobbit and the archer man at the fire in her dream she awoke from only moments ago. She shared an indescribable dislike for him in particular, but the presence of every one of these elves made her nervous.

"This is no doubt the one we're looking for," said the elven king as he stepped forward. He raised his hand toward the archer girl. "Lower your weapon, Lily Greenleaf."

"Lily," Ëalís whispered to herself. In that moment, she recognized her old friend from Dale.

As told by her elder king, Lily lowered her bow, placing the arrow back into the quiver.

The dark-haired elf man stepped forward, nodding his head slightly. "Give her some room, Legolas."

With that, Legolas retreated. Ëalís sat in disbelief.

"You may rise," said the dark-haired elf. As she stood to her feet (which still ached), Ëalís dusted away the dirt from her leggings, smoothed her shirt, and placed a stray ringlet of hair behind her ear. The elves gathered behind the dark-haired elf as he spoke. "I am Elrond. Perhaps you know of us. We have gathered here as the White Council. I am accompanied by Lady Galadriel, Thranduil, Legolas, and his daughter, Phöelele; though I believe you remember her by a different name."

Ëalís lowered her head. "I didn't mean to disrupt your meetings, Lord Elrond. I was simply following an el—" Her thoughts interrupted her. "Well, it sounds absurd and it's actually quite complicated."

"No need to explain, My Child," said Galadriel. "The beast you followed here today is the great spirit of King Thranduil."

"I sent it for you," Thranduil added. "And you came."

"I certainly didn't expect to be meeting elves here," Ëalís replied more harshly than she had realized.

"Well, what _did_ you expect? _Dwarves?_" Lily's tone was sarcastic and her emphasis on the word "dwarves" made Ëalís uneasy. "But it is good to see you, my friend."

"Lily," said Legolas who was to reprimand his daughter for her disrespect.

"That's not what I—" Ëalís stuttered as she felt her pale cheeks turn red. She had not meant to disrespect the elves. In fact, she did not know why she felt nervous with them at all, especially considering the presence of Lily. She could think of no reason to be ill toward the elves.

"Come, Ëalís," Elrond said as he held his hand out toward her.

Ëalís and the company of elves ascended up the Lonely Mountain. Ëalís had never had to go this long without eating (which was only a day) and she felt weak and tired. The sky was still dark and she had no idea of the time. She still felt embarrassed about her remark toward the Council. Lily had been walking a few steps ahead of Ëalís, but slowed down to walk next to her.

"What did it mean to you? Back when we were kids," Ëalís kept her gaze forward, not even glancing toward her friend.

"What did what mean?" Lily asked as she turned her head toward Ëalís. She was smiling the same natural smile that Ëalís had remembered.

"Being an elf," Ëalís said plainly.

Lily smiled and looked toward the ground, thinking of her childhood. Her teeth were perfect and her blue eyes reflected the moon. "To me it didn't mean anything special. I was so young but I knew that I was different from everyone else in Dale. I never felt inferior or superior to anyone and I was never taught that I should have been. That's what many elves around those parts thought—that they were superior to men."

"Where _did_ you go?" Ëalís asked as she finally looked toward Lily. Her voice was calm and curious.

"My mother and I moved to Rivendell to be with my father." Lily looked up at the evening sky and sighed. "It was so different from Dale. Over time, Dale had done nothing but change. Rivendell never changes. A few of the elves had lived there for thousands of years. When the White Council had been called, my father had to travel there often."

"Why," Ëalís started as the number of questions left unanswered grew. "Why had the White Council been called?"

Lily raised an eyebrow. "You'll soon find out."

Ëalís and the elves approached an open and welcoming plateau on the mountainside where they had set up a glorious camp lit by ornate lanterns. A large tent stood in the center of a few smaller tents. The navy blue fabrics of the tents were tinted with the golden glow of the lanterns. The elves entered the large center tent which was lit kindly from the inside, as well.

A white, rectangular table was centered inside the tent with several elven-made chairs surrounding it. Elrond stood at the end in the innermost part of the tent. Galadriel, who Ëalís noticed was wearing a long, lightly-sequined white dress, stood to Elrond's left. Thranduil and Legolas sat in the chairs across from each other. Lily sat next to her father and Ëalís stood inside the entrance of the tent.

"The White Council is gathered," said Elrond. "The Lonely Mountain. A most appropriate locality to hold our council on this evening, is it not?" Elrond began to pace. "As we all know, the White Council has gathered together during troubling times in Middle Earth's history. We have gathered this evening to discuss a rather unique concern. This mountain, as we know it, has long been abandoned by the dwarves. It is a concern that something has been stolen from it though we don't understand the possibility. All doors leading to the mountain's heart have been sealed by the dwarves themselves and by _our_ eyes they cannot be seen. We are fortunate to have had Ëalís come to us, for she is the only one who can restore what the mountain has lost."

"I plea, I mean no disrespect, Lord Elrond," Ëalís said inquisitively. "It isn't clear to me what is going on. What has been stolen from the mountain?"

"He hasn't told her," Galadriel voiced to Elrond. "He has yet to speak." Her voice was graceful and enchanting.

Ëalís's bewildered expression validated Galadriel's statement to Elrond. "Who? Who has spoken, er, hasn't spoken?"

Elrond leaned forward on the table before him and he looked at Ëalís directly. "I know you, Ëalís, though you have failed to recognize me." He stood tall, once again. The corners of his lips curled into a knowing smirk. He used his hand to motion for the Council to rise. He headed past Ëalís to the outside of the tent. On his way out, he collected two of the lanterns that decorated the ground. He handed one to Ëalís who timidly accepted it. Elrond lead Ëalís and the Council to a tall, mountain wall that stood before them only steps away from their camp.

"Do you see anything of curiosity about this wall?" Elrond asked Ëalís. The others stood reservedly behind Elrond and Ëalís. Ëalís stepped closer to the mountainside as she held the lantern close to the wall, examining it closely.

"I don't notice anything, Lord Elrond," she replied hesitantly. Ëalís continued her gaze over the wall, looking for any sort of flaw or curiosity.

Elrond stepped toward Ëalís. He grasped his hands behind his back as he examined the curiosity and anxiety in Ëalís's expression.

"Wait." Ëalís noticed small, subtle carvings engraved in the stone. She held her lantern close to the mountain wall as she nearly squinted to notice that upon the wall were tiny, neatly carved dwarven runes. "By the blood of Durin's heir can the door be opened," she mumbled under her breath. She fell away from the wall as the Council waited in curiosity. "There are dwarven runes. They say 'by the blood of Durin's heir can the door be opened.' Does that mean anything to _you_?" The Council stood in silence as Ëalís turned her attention back to the carvings. She lifted her hand and gently caressed the carvings on the wall, wondering the significance of the letters to the elves. She stood back again and sighed.

The ground shook beneath their feet. The mountainside etched hundreds of dwarven runes upon itself as it crumbled to the ground. Ëalís stumbled backward but did not hit the ground. Someone had grabbed her arm. Legolas helped her to her feet as both fought to regain their balance on the trembling mountainside.

Rocks and loose debris continued to ripple down to the surface, but the tremor had ceased.

"By the blood of Durin's heir," Elrond repeated slowly, pausing after each word. Ëalís examined the hand she had used when she was observing the runes. Blood stains still colored her hand from the incident two days prior.

Ëalís's trance ceased as she noticed the elves gather before her. Ëalís felt awkward beneath the stares of her elven acquaintances. To avert her anxiety, she looked away from their stares, gazing down the dark hall that led to the royal halls of Erebor.

**A/N: I know this chapter is a shorty, but I didn't want to bombard you guys with a bunch of important events jumbled into one chapter. We are getting somewhere with this, I promise!**

**I really appreciate all of you who have been reading! Would you care to write a review? I would really like to know what you all think!**


	4. A Thought

Exhaustion had quickly overcome Ëalís, yet she laid awake on the small cot the elves had provided for her rest. She still felt uneasy. The small tent that she rested in was dark, but she could see Lily on a cot across from her. Ëalís rolled on her back, staring at the blackness above her.

"Don't dwarves ever sleep?" Ëalís was startled by Lily who she assumed had been asleep. Lily rolled to her side to face Ëalís and propped herself on her arm.

Ëalís exhaled as she rolled to face her friend. "I never had a problem sleeping when I was still of Men."

"Elle," said Lily sympathetically. Ëalís was calmed by the sound of her nickname which she so dearly missed (though she had only been away from her farm for two days). "Nothing has changed. You didn't just become a dwarf." This Ëalís knew, but she still felt confused and even angry. The pessimist inside of her could not help but to convince her that her life had been a lie. Who were her real parents? Where were the rest of her kin? What did the elves really want from her? So many questions suddenly stood unanswered.

Ëalís gazed at the dark ceiling. "Lord Elrond said that something had been stolen from the mountain. How could that have been possible if the doors could only be opened by a dwarf in Durin's line?"

"I—," Lily stuttered as she sat up. "I don't know. You were able to open the door. Suddenly, everything doesn't seem that impossible."

"The White Council knew where to find me." Ëalís sat up on the edge of her cot. "How _did_ the elves know where to find me?"

Lily shook her head as she glanced down. "I don't understand, either." Lily felt disappointment as she thought of how little she really knew. "But what I do know, Ëalís, is that some elves are gifted. Lord Elrond has been granted the gift of foresight. Lady Galadriel can communicate with others with her mind. You saw first-hand what my grandfather can do, and—," Ëalís interrupted.

"Do you have a gift?" Lily, who had become tense, relaxed her shoulders.

"I can see the past similarly to how Lord Elrond sees the future," Lily responded.

Ëalís furrowed her brow in question. "How is that a gift? A lot of people have a good memory." Ëalís had not meant disrespect to her friend, but Lily recognized that this as a valid argument to Ëalís. She detected the confusion in Ëalís's expression.

"Not just _my_ past, Ëalís," Lily leaned slightly forward and raised an eyebrow. "I see Middle Earth's past—all of it!—since the beginning of its existence."

Ëalís sat in awe. "I can't even comprehend that," Ëalís said in her disbelief as she laid down, staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine everything her friend must know. "You definitely have no need for history books."

"That's normal," replied Lily with a chuckle. Lily also laid back down with one arm behind her head and another resting on her abdomen. She sighed. With laughing matters aside, concern and disturbance filled her expression. "There are _some_ things one doesn't wish to see twice. Sometimes, I get certain moments replaying in my head over and over again. It's like I have to _relive_ some of Middle Earth's worst moments."

"The dragon attack on Erebor," Ëalís said. She heard Lily respond with a soft, confirmatory _hmm_. "Moria," Ëalís said even quieter. She closed her eyes. "The Battle of Five Armies," she said in a barely audible whisper.

Within a matter of minutes, either both fell asleep or they laid silently, contemplating their blood-stained memories.

**A/N: I wrote this little "chapterlet" today during my break between classes. This scene wasn't in my original story timeline, but I thought it would be neat for you to see this moment between Elle and Lily before they enter Erebor. Think of it as one of those deleted scenes that are included in a movie's "bonus features" where you're like "Well that seemed important. I wonder why it wasn't in the movie?"**

**This chapter was named after Enya's song "Smaointe..." It is an absolutely beautiful song sung in the Irish Gaelic language. It's my favorite song by Enya, and it happened to play on Pandora as I was finishing the draft of this chapter. Please review! Elle and I would sincerely appreciate it. And thank you for the comments so far!**


	5. Do You Know?

Ëalís woke to the sun shining through the opening to the tent. She rubbed her eyes as she fought the oncoming headache that the sunlight was causing. She stood to her feet as she popped and cracked every stiff joint in her body, from her spine to her neck and her hands. Behind her, her bow laid propped against her cot. She brought it to her, poking her sleeping elf friend on the shoulder.

"Lily," she whispered. "Lily, get up." Lily's response was a subtle shift and an unintelligible mumble. "What?" Ëalís impatiently responded. "Wake up," she repeated as she rapidly poked her friend on the shoulder. "WAKE UP!" She flung the curtain open and stormed outside. Legolas stood a few steps away, smirking and shaking his head in slight amusement at Ëalís's attempt to wake his daughter.

"Good luck with that one," he said as he sheathed the knife he had been sharpening. Ëalís rolled her eyes as she boldly turned to face the tent, drawing an arrow in her bow. Legolas stepped forward to stop her, but Ëalís fired the arrow. A scream echoed from where Lily was sleeping. Ëalís turned to Legolas who appeared somewhat alarmed at Ëalís's reckless actions.

"Bet you've never tried _that_, now have you?" Ëalís and Legolas approached the tent and glanced inside to find Lily lying wide-eyed on her back, staring cross-eyed at the arrow directly above her head. Ëalís tied the curtain entrance back so sunlight filled the dark tent, causing Lily to squint her eyes from the brightness of the light. "Get up," Ëalís called to her friend for the last time. "For today," she paused for an intentional dramatic effect. "We discover Erebor." As Ëalís turned to leave, she yanked the arrow from the thick fabric above Lily's head and placed it in her quiver.

••••••••••••••••••••

Ëalís and the elves stood before the crumbled door to Erebor. Everyone stood quietly before Ëalís broke the silence with her curiosity. "So," she said casually as she looked toward Elrond. "By the blood of Durin's heir," she continued as she contemplated the words for herself. "So the royal line never ceased?"

Elrond responded as he raised an eyebrow.

"You look at me as if there is another possibility," Ëalís replied in confusion. There was an undertone of irritability in her voice.

"At this point, Ëalís, I know about as much as you do," Elrond stepped toward the inside of the cave. Ëalís glared at him. She knew he was lying, but she did not know why he would lie. He held out his hand toward the entrance. "Shall we proceed?" He paused. "Or would you prefer to stand outside and continue to question your fate?"

With that, Ëalís proceeded ahead of the elves that followed behind her. The rocky walls seemed to close in on them as the path became a narrow hole. Ëalís felt her breathing become hot and quick. The tunnel lacked sufficient air for her and the five elves to breathe comfortably. No one said anything. The group proceeded through the tunnel without a word, saving the limited air for their short breaths.

There it was. The light at the end of the tunnel. Ëalís climbed from the hole and dropped down to the floor below, helping Lily as she climbed out behind her. Ëalís turned to face the sight before her. She stood in awe as she took in the wonder that lay beautifully before her. It was not as she had pictured it, at all. Everything seemed to be in its place. She stood in the throne room of the great kings of Erebor. Etched in the walls were countless dwarven phrases and proverbs. Gold and precious jewels framed the exquisite interior of the kingdom. The throne room was dotted with lit torches and the flames danced across the beautiful dwarven kingdom. Ëalís picked a torch from the ground, as she stroked the markings on the mountain walls. She hurried toward the center of the room where the throne stood. She lost herself in a reverie as she kneeled before the throne.

As she stood, ten other dwarves gathered around the throne, which had been moved. A hole had been dug into the ground in its place.

An older dwarf with a long, grey beard was the first to speak. "Farewell, my king." Ëalís noticed a tear resting in the corner of the old dwarf's eye.

"Farewell, my king," another dwarf said. This one was the older dwarf's brother. He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Farewell, my king," said the rest of the dwarves in unison.

"And farewell, Fili and Kili," said a red-bearded dwarf who was resting his arm on his battle-axe.

Ëalís opened her cobalt eyes and returned to her reality. "Wait," she quickly said as she focused on the ground beneath the golden throne. She turned her head toward the elves as she kneeled to feel the ground before her. The elves had spread throughout the throne room, admiring the architecture for themselves. "There's a reason this place seemed so bright and alive when we entered. Did you notice? Someone has been here, and _very_ recently." The elves gathered before Ëalís who still stood at the throne. "This place is _tomb_."

"Impossible," said Lily plainly. "The dwarves are extinct and they are the only ones that can even _see_ sealed dwarven doors."

"Now how impossible is it, really?" Ëalís quickly replied as she pushed her hair behind her ear. "I'm here. And alive. And very much _not_ extinct."

Lily looked away from Ëalís. Ëalís motioned for the elves to assist her. "Help me move this," she commanded as she and Legolas pushed the throne away.

"You can't be serious, Elle," Lily said as she watched her father and her friend move the throne.

"I'm just moving it. Obviously, Lily, we're not the first to be here in the past two thousand years, and by the looks of it, in the past few days," said Ëalís.

"_We've_ been here for the past few days," Lily crossed her arms. "How could we miss anyone coming through?"

"I don't know," Ëalís shouted. Ëalís had not shouted like this before. Nor had she ever felt _this_ impatient. She exhaled as she blankly gazed at the ground, wondering how she really sounded. "I'm sorry, Lily, I—" her voice trailed off. "I didn't mean to."

Galadriel approached Ëalís and knelt beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. _Is it worse here?_

_Yes._ Ëalís kept her gaze down. _What's happening to me?_

Galadriel did not respond. She focused on Ëalís's expression until Ëalís raised her eyes to meet hers.

"Elrond," Galadriel said aloud. "Tell her now."

Elrond slightly nodded in agreement.

"Lily told me," said Ëalís. "She told me that some elves are gifted—and that you have the gift of foresight."

Elrond stood in silence as Ëalís continued.

"You knew, didn't you? Rather, I should say, you know." The last phrase was not a question to Elrond.

"Can I show you something, Ëalís?" Elrond motioned Thranduil over, who was holding a bundle of _something_ wrapped in velvets and silks. Thranduil held the bundle out to Elrond who unwrapped it to reveal a bow, a quiver, and a pair of long knives in sheaths. "These are for you."

As Ëalís reached for the weapons, she was forced into a memory of a dream she had.

She stood before an orc and a warg, who were clearly aiming to attack her. Before the orc could strike her, two young dwarves jumped between her and the warg; a blonde dwarf sliced at the wargs throat and a dark-haired dwarf fired an arrow at the orc. The two dwarves had risked their own lives to save hers, and suddenly, she knew exactly who they were, as if she had _personally_ known them.

"No," she said softly. She suddenly felt light-headed and weak. She fell to the floor, squeezing her eyes shut to prevent herself from throwing up. It took an immense amount of strength to hold herself up on her one hand as she grabbed her head with the other. Her throat tightened as she fought the tears that she inevitably could not hold back.

Just as she was certain she blacked out, she felt a hand on her shoulder. The pressure in her head lightened as she opened her eyes, still unable to see the golden walls she knew stood before her. It still seemed as if she had not opened her eyes at all.

"Ëalís," a familiar voice softly said her name. This man was not one of the elves; nor was he of any man. She knew this voice, but it had never seemed this kind. She heard this voice when she felt angry or frustrated or rash. She forced her gaze to the figure that knelt beside her. She could finally put a face to the deep, brooding voice that, at this moment, seemed so reassuring. She felt a sense of comfort.

He was a dwarf. _He_ was Thorin Oakenshield.

Thorin shared a striking resemblance to Ëalís. His blue-gray eyes stayed on hers, and though they were stern, they seemed to offer her a sense of comfort, kindness, and understanding. His thick, long hair was nearly the same shade of brown-black.

Ëalís turned her gaze back toward the ground. She wiped away the tears that stained her bright red cheeks.

"Don't ignore me now," he said. His voice was dark yet mysteriously calming. "Please."

Ëalís looked back at him. Without him saying anything more, she knew he was _begging_ her to hear him out.

"I know how you feel," Thorin said.

There was silence. Ëalís inhaled and exhaled before she responded. "No. I don't think you do."

Thorin was silent.

"Why are you here?" Ëalís said as she turned her head toward him, without directly looking him in the eye.

"I was hardened in my lifetime, Ëalís," Thorin said as he stepped toward her. Ëalís stood and stepped further away from him. She still kept her back toward him. "It pains me just as it does you—to see my nephews." He looked away from her, subtly shaking his head. "They shouldn't have died. Not like that." He paused again. "I regret how coolly I treated them in our last days. The truth is—," his voice trailed off as if he was having trouble speaking.

"You didn't want them to come," Ëalís finished. She turned to face Thorin.

"They risked their lives for mine, and I still failed them—all of them."

Ëalís felt her throat tighten as a tear streamed down her cheek. "Stop," she choked out as she placed her hand over her mouth. "Please." She squeezed her eyes tight.

"I won't," Thorin replied. "Because I need you. I need you to help me restore what my kingdom has lost. I don't want my nephews' death to be in vain. And I think you realize you want for the same."

"You got what you came here for. They didn't die for _nothing._ They didn't—" Ëalís shook her head as she swallowed hard. The lump in her throat would not go away.

Thorin said nothing as he closed his eyes, remembering his last days with the company at Erebor. He turned his head away from Ëalís.

_Tell me,_ Galadriel said. _Why do you think you can hear Thorin Oakenshield?_

Ëalís slowly opened her blue eyes to find herself lying on the ground surrounded by the golden walls of Erebor. Lily sat on the ground next to her as she pushed herself up into a seated position. Her arms still felt weak and her head still spun, but it was not as bad as before.

As she came back to her consciousness, Ëalís pondered Galadriel's question before she responded. _I don't know._ She looked back toward Galadriel who stood several steps away from her next to Elrond and Thranduil.

Legolas came up behind Ëalís and knelt beside her and his daughter. He handed Ëalís a wet piece of cloth. It was ice cold with fresh water from—somewhere. An underground stream, perhaps. Ëalís accepted the cloth and placed it on the back of her neck.

_Do you know?_ Ëalís asked as she glanced toward Galadriel.

Then Galadriel responded. Ëalís felt herself losing consciousness once again.

_Yes._

__**A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I have been waiting and waiting and waiting to introduce Thorin to Elle. I've had this chapter planned since I began writing _Ëalís._ I also gave this fan-fiction a new look! I made a new cover photo for it and I updated the summary. Please tell me what you think-of everything! Please leave me a review. I really would like to know your thoughts on this.**


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